


Pulled

by orphan_account



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: First Meetings, M/M, Self-Harm, Slurs, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:18:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A public park is a safe place.





	1. Not My Place

Josh jogs along, ignoring the sound of his heavy breathing and loud footsteps in favor of focusing on the sound of Billie Joe Armstrong’s voice blasting through his headphones. _Too loud_ , he thinks. _Not loud enough._  

He has never been to this park before, terrain unfamiliar, unsure of what would be around each bend in the path he followed. He checks his stopwatch. _Twenty-two minutes. Not bad_.

Coming to a clearing in the forest-lined path, he stops jogging. He notices an open area of pavement, directory placed in the middle, presumably for tourists making their way around. A smoking-permitted area off to the side. Josh glances at the people's coated by their own carcinogenic smoke with a sneer of disgust. _Fucking idiots,_ he thinks. _You’re already dead._

Directly across the clearing, across from where he is standing, from where he had entered the paved area, are two benches. Two benches next to each other, almost close enough to be touching, one of which being the seat to a man sitting alone, the other empty, looking like the perfect place for Josh to rest his aching limbs. He walks over, not looking up as he does so, busying himself with pulling the headphones out of his ears and pausing the music. He’s hungry, he notices, but too tired to care. He’ll stop by that little cafe over there in a little while.

Approaching the bench, he promptly sits directly in the middle of it and stretches his legs out in front of him. _Post-jog stretching is critical. Static. Static, never dynamic stretches. Slow your heartbeat._ He reaches down to touch his toes and holds there. The pull on his calf muscles is pressing, but welcome. Sitting back up, he twists his back to the left, grimacing at the unsavory _Pop!_ that resounds. He turns to the right then, but stops when he notices he is facing the man on the bench next to him.

The man isn’t looking at Josh, but Josh is looking at the man. Not because Josh is rude, because he’s not, never has been. But because Josh is curious, confused.

He takes note of the man. Calloused, yet clean hands, rub together at a worrying rate. One of the hands, a hand Josh notices has rings around its base peaking out from the guy’s sweatshirt sleeve, reaches up, scratches aggressively at the man’s head. Josh’s brows furrow. _Shit, the guy’s gonna make himself bleed_. But he doesn’t. Josh notices himself staring, but doesn’t seem to care as he continues to watch as the man takes half a sub out of a white styrofoam container next to him. The man takes slow bites, truly savoring each one, seeming to be really think about it. Josh is confused. _Why the fuck is a fucking pulled pork sandwich making this guy so pensive?_

Josh continues to watch as the man finishes the half of the sub. He never puts it down, never takes a break from eating it. Josh watches as the man rubs his hands together to fling off crumbs, and closes the tab on the white styrofoam container, half of the sandwich still inside. The man leans forward then, elbows leaning on thighs, head hanging low between his shoulders.

Josh is so curious, and so concerned. He wishes he wasn’t.

“Hey, man. Are you okay?” Josh isn’t shy. He wishes he was.

The man’s head picks up, but doesn’t turn toward Josh. Josh watches, heart rate picking up as the man furrows his brows and draws in a sharp breath. He turns to face Josh, but doesn’t speak.

Josh gets his first look at the man’s face. It looks tired, like he had something he was dragging around all the time, and simply couldn’t find the place it was supposed to be dropped off. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Either way, the guy’s eyes were bloodshot, and he was so, so pale. He still hasn’t spoken.

“You just, ah . . . Look like something’s bothering you.” Josh, again isn’t shy. He’s trying to learn to compensate.

More silence ensues, but the heated staredown between Josh and this stranger doesn’t stop. For the first time, the man opens his mouth.

“My brother killed himself today.” The guy’s face is thoughtful, confused almost. Certainly not sad or angry, and no tears. Certainly not anything you would expect from a man whose brother just committed suicide.

 _Oh shit_ , Josh thinks. Oh shit indeed, because Josh expected to hear “I got laid off from my job” or “my girlfriend broke up with me.” Things Josh had been through, things he could give advice for. So _oh shit_ , Josh thinks, _this guy’s got real problems. What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?_

“I’m sorry," he settles on. The guy gives one last, long, curious look at Josh before he shakes his head, lowering it back down between his shoulders. He does The Thing again, where he scratches his head almost violently, as if there was something in there that didn't belong, something he wanted to scratch out.

When he picks his head back up again, he is facing forward, but Josh is still staring at him. He’s leaning back now, back pressed to the wooden bench he’s sitting on, hands falling between his legs, but not moving.

“I never understood why people say that. Why do they say sorry when someone dies?” He’s looking at Josh now.

“I don’t know what else I’m supposed to say.”

“How about ‘what was he like?’ or ‘do you miss him?’ or ‘why did he do it?’” The man, whom Josh has not yet learned the name of, he realizes, speaks with a sigh. Josh notices him twitching as he speaks. Not major bodily movements, just fingers grasping at nothing and head flicking sideways quickly. He doesn’t point it out as he speaks.

“I didn’t think it was my place.” False. He didn’t ask these questions, but it wasn’t because he didn’t think it was his place. _Oh no, it doesn’t seem like this guy knows boundaries_. It was simply because he didn’t think of it. But Josh figures that even if he _had_ thought of it, he wouldn’t have asked anyway.

“Bullshit,” the guy calls him out. Josh’s face doesn’t change, doesn’t speak up to defend himself. The man is still staring Josh right in the face. “I’m Tyler.” Josh blinks, not expecting the man to tell him his name. _Weird, though. That’s usually one of the first things you say to someone in a conversation._ Josh shakes the thought away.

“Josh.” There’s no handshake, there’s no “nice to meet you.” There’s Tyler nodding his head slightly, turning back to stare out in front of him once again. This time, Josh copies. He only looks back when he notices Tyler stand up. He picks up the white styrofoam box where half of a pulled pork sandwich still sits, and walks over to the nearest garbage can and promptly throws away the whole box. Josh doesn’t react, doesn’t have time to react before Tyler is walking away. No “goodbye,” no wave, not even a last glance at Josh, Tyler leaves. He heads back down the same path Josh had entered from just a short while before.

Josh watches Tyler one last time as he ambles away, right hand in his front pocket, left hand scratching his head fervently.


	2. Right Through

Josh returns to that clearing in the park the next day, but not because he was on a jog and happened to stumble across the paved area. No, he comes because he is so curious. _Wish I wasn’t_. Curious about the boy whose brother killed himself, curious about the boy who twitched and cursed and knew no boundaries or shame. The man who ate half of the pulled pork sandwich.

No headphones this time, Josh wants to be as present as possible. He’s not sure if Tyler’s even going to be there today, but he figures that even if he’s not, he would still get to relax in a nice park. He’s walking down the path, looking straight ahead, ignoring everything around him. He’s ignoring the flirtatious stare from a girl passing by whose shorts are too short, shirt too tight, breasts too . . . _there_. He’s ignoring the trees that he would usually stare at, comparing them to the one that adorns his arm. He’s ignoring the obnoxious squirrels that scutter about which he would usually yell at to _get the fuck away from me_. He’s ignoring everything. He’s looking straight ahead, he’s looking at Tyler.

Today, Tyler is wearing the same black jeans he wore yesterday. Or perhaps they're a different, but identical pair. _Who fucking cares?_ Not Josh, certainly. Tyler is also wearing a gray hoodie, but Josh can’t see if there’s anything written on it because Tyler is hunched over, scratching his head once more. Next to him is a white styrofoam container, identical to the one he had yesterday.

Josh hesitates, unsure if Tyler wants the company. He stands still, trying to decipher Tyler’s emotions toward the interaction they had yesterday. He hadn’t seemed upset by it, but he hadn’t seemed happy either. And suddenly Josh realizes that Tyler either has no emotions or just hides them really well. He doesn’t have a preference which. _Whatever,_ Josh thinks, _it’s public property._

He makes his way over to the bench, the same one he was on yesterday and sits. This time, he doesn’t sit in the middle, he sits on the end closest to Tyler’s bench.

Tyler doesn’t look up when he addresses Josh.

“You again.” Josh looks over to him slowly, and Tyler looks back quickly. Josh notices that even the slight difference in his closeness to Tyler is fairly significant. From just this much closer, Josh can see the stubble on Tyler’s cheeks and chin, can see it’s not tamed. He still looks tired, all purple, veiny eyelids and messy eyebrows.

“Yeah. Me again.” Tyler gives a polite smile. Its surprising to Josh, it’s the most emotion he’s seen him express yet. The smile is tight-lipped, but not forced. “Sorry. D’you want me to leave?” Tyler raises his eyebrows and shakes his head. Too much shaking to signal a simple “no” from any other person, but Josh doesn’t comment on it. _He probably doesn’t even know he’s doing it._ Josh nods.

Tyler then goes about his curious routine, removing half of a sandwich out of the styrofoam, eating it consistently. Same amount of time between each bite, no breaks, no mistakes. Josh looks closer. It’s pulled pork.

Josh watches again as Tyler finishes the half, brushes his hands on his pants, and closes the box of food. Then they’re silent.

Until: “Do you know why Zack killed himself?”

Josh blinks slowly. _The fuck is Zack?_ He’s about to voice his confusion, but quickly realizes he must be Tyler’s brother. He also realizes that he’s not sure what Tyler means by the question. _Is he genuinely asking me if I know? How the fuck would I know? No, he’s asking because he wants to tell you. He doesn’t have to. Don’t do it._

“Uh, no. I don’t.”

“Well at first I thought it was beca-” _No. Don’t do it._

“No, hey, man. Stop. You don’t have to talk about it. I can tell it’s making you upset.” But Tyler doesn’t stop, merely wrings his hands and begins again.

“At first I thought it was because he saw me try it and then saw my sister do it. You know, you see someone else who wants to do it so bad, it makes you want to do it too, yeah? So I thought that was it.” _Him too? His sister too?_ “Oh, yeah. My sister did it too.” Josh decides that Tyler heard his thought, at least half of it. “Dumb bitch” Tyler mutters, rolling his eyes in distaste. He continues, choosing his words carefully. “She died. I didn’t.” He _smirks._

“Holy shit, dude,” Josh says, because he’s just that fucking eloquent. He’s not even sure what that was a reaction to. He could have been reacting to the fact that Tyler _himself_ had tried it, that Tyler’s sister _and_ brother had done it, and he only bothered to mention the latter.

If “holy shit, dude” was a reaction to either of those things, it would have been said in shocked sadness. However, it becomes clear to Josh that he had subconsciously voiced this reaction in a manner of intrigued disgust. Clearly, he was reacting to Tyler’s cat-like smirk.

Tyler shakes his head. His fingers twitch.

“You know, I didn’t try to kill myself or whatever just because I hated myself. That’s what a lot of people do. If I hated myself, why would I put myself out of my misery like that? Why wouldn’t I want to stay alive, make myself feel the pain if I thought I deserved it _so much_? What the fuck is that about?” He looks to Josh, and Josh realizes that this time, Tyler is genuinely asking. He’e genuinely asking what the fuck it’s about when people kill themselves out of self-hatred.

“I don’t know. I really don’t,” Josh says, because he really _doesn’t_ know. _Never been there, bless._ “Whatever, I don’t know, either. Anyway, I did it because of my sister. She called me a fucking _psychopath_. And that wasn’t . . . that wasn’t _okay.”_ Tyler’s twitching has increased, but his words are still calm. His face is still emotionless. Josh is something else. Josh is listening and nodding along. He’s not freaked out, he’s not turned away. He’s listening and nodding along, but taking special note of the way Tyler seems genuinely shaken to his core by the word ‘psychopath.’

“Why wasn’t it okay?” He knows, really, why it wasn’t okay. But he’s playing devil’s advocate. He doesn’t want Tyler to stop talking anymore.

“Because you can’t just . . . you can’t just fucking call a person that, you know? She acted like I was crazy. I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.” Josh isn’t sure about that. “Anyway,” he scratches briefly, “I got to thinking; why should I still be here if I’m a psychopath? That must mean I’m a danger, yeah? To myself? To others? Whoever, right? So why stick around if all I’m doing is putting other people in danger because I can’t fucking control myself?” Josh doesn’t agree with his logic. _If you’re a danger to others, you get locked up, get help. If you’re a danger to yourself, you get locked up, get help. You don’t just go and fucking kill yourself_ , he thinks. But of course, he doesn’t speak up. He’s not afraid to be bold, but he has a filter. He listens as Tyler continues. “So I did it, I tried, and my brother found me, and it didn’t work. I hate Madison. I hate her. I told her that in my note.” He pauses then, unsure of whether or not he wants to finish the story. But he does. “So I go home, right? They’ve got me on suicide watch. Still do. An-”

“When did this all happen?”

“A few days ago.” He scratches his head harshly, then shrugs. “Anyway, I get home and Madison’s missing. My parents don’t know where she is, my siblings, the neighbors, no one. Eventually it got reported to the police, and they found her in the bottom of a lake. She jumped off a bridge near my house. Dumb bitch.” Josh is squinting, staring at Tyler wondering what he got himself into here because _this guy’s pretty fucked up_. “She left a note. I didn’t read it, my parents said it was addressed to me. It was so fucking long, I couldn’t be bothered.” _Yeah, this guy’s_ really _fucked up._ Josh almost smiles. _What the fuck is so funny?_ He doesn’t smile.

Tyler pauses, a crestfallen look just touching his features, and Josh sees it in the downturn of his lips and the flare of his nostrils. Josh realizes that Tyler had just thought of something, and that _something_ made Tyler upset in an instant. He wasn’t upset by his sister’s death. “So, that brought me to yesterday,” Tyler says with a heavy sigh, a twitch, “Zack killed himself.”

“How?” Tyler blinks.

“What?”

“How did he kill himself?”

“Shot himself. Painless, you know? My dad kept a gun in the garage. Right through the head. Right through . . .” he trails off. “But like I said, I _thought_ that was why Zack did it- because I tried to, and Madison _did_. But that wasn’t why. I didn’t know why until I read his note. Do you know what the note said?”

When Tyler asks this question, Josh is brought back to the initiator of the conversation. _“Do you know why Zack killed himself?”_ Trick question, it’s the same question. Whatever the letter said and why Zack killed himself were the same exact thing, as Tyler had just said. So trick question, it’s the same question, and it pulls the same response from Josh.

“I don’t.” And this time, Tyler stares. _No. Don’t do it._ “But you don’t need to tell me.” Tyler brings up a hand, the one that usually scratches his head, and points it at Josh.

“You’re right,” he says, and Josh was concerned that the finger pointing meant something else at first. Tyler’s hand drops. “But do you _want_ me to tell you?”

And honestly, Josh doesn’t. He had heard enough of the story, doesn’t need to hear exactly what it was that was making this already mentally unstable guy even more mentally unstable, and it’s obvious Tyler wouldn’t tell him if he said no, so he voices his preference.

“No.” Tyler snorts lightly at this, but it’s not in a “fuck you, I wasn’t going to tell you anyway” way, it’s more of a “I don’t blame you” kind of way. So he nods, and Josh nods back, and they’re both staring at each other.

The moment is only broken when Tyler shifts his vision down, down toward the white styrofoam box still sitting on the bench next to his left thigh. He checks to make sure the box is closed, before standing up with it, disposing of it in the same garbage can he had thrown it in yesterday. The other half is still inside.

Much like yesterday, Tyler walks off down that same path, disappearing without a trace. Josh is still sat on the bench, following Tyler with his eyes until he is too far gone, disappeared into the trees. His chin drops to his chest as he inhales deeply, fiddling with his fingers.


	3. Always Wait

“Do you always eat that same thing?” Josh is so curious. _Wish I wasn’t_. That’s why he’s asking Tyler this question the next day in the park. Tyler, who’s dressed similarly to the past two days, Tyler who’s eating half of a pulled pork sandwich. Tyler who’s eating half of a sandwich, and does not stop to acknowledge neither Josh nor his question until he’s done.

“Yes,” he states matter-of-factly, “I do.” He’s sitting much closer to Josh today, all the way to the end of his bench, closest he can get to Josh without being on the same bench. That was how Josh found Tyler that day, as if he were anticipating Josh’s arrival. Josh had sat down as close as possible to Tyler’s bench, and now he’s really noticing just how close they are.

“Why? Doesn’t it get boring?”

“Those are two very different questions. Yeah, it get’s boring. Pulled pork’s not really my favorite. Never has been.” Josh furrows his brow. “But it was Zack’s favorite.” _Oh, shit._

“You’re eating to commemorate him?” And Tyler looks at Josh as if he’s bat-shit crazy.

“No, I’m not _eating to commemorate him_. I’m eating how I used to eat. _With_ him.”

“I can’t say I know what you mean.”

“We used to come here together everyday, and share a pulled pork sandwich. Right here on this bench.” Tyler pats the spot on the bench next to him, staring down almost sadly at the spot before looking back up with a short scratch of his head accompanied by a deep sigh. And Josh’s heart breaks. _He doesn’t even like it, he just eats it because he wanted to be with Zack. So that must mean . . ._

“So the other half of the sandwich.”

“Zack’s.” It’s simple, and Josh gets it. _Preserve what’s Zack’s, no matter what it is._ They’re quiet for a bit, and Tyler is the first one to speak up. “We’ve been talking about sandwiches for too long.” He scratches his head again, and this is the longest scratch Josh has witnessed. It must have lasted half a minute. He waits for Tyler to finish before he speaks.

“We’re talking about your brother.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“So you were close with him?” Josh prompts, preparing himself for the same kind of rambling mess that usually runs out of Tyler’s mouth when he has a lot to say. But that’s okay. Josh has time. _Always wait for Tyler_.

“Yeah, we were real close. Ever since we were little kids, you know?” His whole hand twitches on the word ‘kids.’ “We used to . . . do _everything_ together. We were on the same basketball team, we built a treehouse together. We never let anyone in that damn treehouse.” Tyler gets a nostalgic look on his face, and Josh’s heart breaks again. “I loved him. I love him. Fuck.” He blinks rapidly. Josh sees his eyes glimmering slightly and wonders briefly if he’s crying. But as quickly as he sees it happen, it’s already over.

“You miss him.”

“I miss him.” He confirms. But he confirms it in the way that’s hopeless, the way that’s less of a confirmation and more of an acceptance, an admittance of defeat.

“What was he like?” Josh asks, because two days ago Tyler had told him he should ask questions like that, because he never understood why people say “I’m sorry” when someone dies. Tyler chuckles lightly, catching on to what Josh is doing.

“Zack, he was . . . not like me. People liked him in school,” Heartbreak number three, “and he was just so _good_ at everything he did, you know? He was good at basketball, good at academics, good at talking to people, good at dating. Everything. Jack of all trades. Not like me, though. But for whatever reason, he never left me. He always wanted to hang out with me. Why would he do that, Josh?” Josh just stares on, biting his lip in uncertainty. “Why would he still hang out with me if I always held him back?”

Josh could tell Tyler was so desperate. He could tell by the way Tyler leans close and searches Josh’s eyes, presumably for answers that he would just never receive.

“Sorry,” Tyler says, shaking slightly and settling back down into his spot on the bench, “I shouldn’t put this on you.”

“I’m the one that asked.”

“I’m the one that told you to.” Josh smiles, and Tyler smiles back. Josh realizes that this is the first time he’s seen Tyler smile with his teeth. The sight is beautiful, and Josh wants to cry.

“But anyway. Physically, I wasn’t like him either. He was a lot stronger than me and stuff.” _No shit,_ Josh thinks, _looks like that half a sandwich is all you eat in a day_. “More manly, masculine, you know. Jawline, all that.” He waves his hand as he says this, as if he doesn’t care. _But he does. He really fucking does_. Josh just nods. They sit together in a pensive silence, Josh thinking about Tyler’s life. He tries to imagine losing a brother and sister to suicide and having tried the same thing. He tries to imagine hating his sister so much that he doesn’t care that her body got dragged out of a fucking lake. He tries to imagine losing someone he loved so much, and who loved him right back, and having nothing left of them but a fucking piece of paper. _Selfish_ , Josh wants to think. _Misunderstood,_ he knows. He wants to stop imagining. He can’t imagine anymore, so he looks to Tyler’s eyes in search of something to ground himself. Tyler has a faraway look in his eyes, and he doesn’t seem to be thinking about anything, anything at all.

“Do you have any other siblings? Besides Zack and . . .” he trails off, forgetting Tyler’s sister’s name but being completely unapologetic about it. That’s how Josh usually is. Unapologetic. _Wish I wasn’t_.

“Madison.”

“Madison.”

“Yeah. Another brother. Jay. He’s young though, only eighteen.” Josh’s eyebrows raise slightly in surprise. _Why am I surprised?_ “He doesn’t talk to us, though.” Brows raised impossibly higher, Josh is intrigued. How could an eighteen-year-old just stop talking to his family? Josh imagines himself when he was eighteen, tries to imagine not talking to his siblings, his parents. He blinks harshly, coming back to earth before his imagination can get too far. He doesn’t want to imagine that.

“Why not?” Tyler gives a half-hearted shrug, but he doesn’t look upset. He looks tired, again. Like he’s too tired to even finish a full shrug.

“He moved out. Eighteen years old and he decided he couldn’t deal with me anymore.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t just you,” Josh tries to console. _Am I sure?_

“Yeah, well, _I’m_ sure it was me. I told you. People liked Zack. Not me. Not even my own brother.” Josh wants to bring up his sister again, wondering why he hasn’t mentioned whether people liked her or not. But he forgets her name again. _Yeah, that’s why_. _Forgot her name_.

“Do you like talking to me, Josh?” Tyler asks. Josh is taken aback by this. Does he? He’s surely interested in what Tyler has to say and how he says it. Is that enough?

“I do, yeah. You’re pretty . . . profound.”

“Profound?”

“Yeah. The way you think, I guess. It’s different.”

“ _Different_ ,” Tyler says inquisitively, testing out the word on his tongue. He grimaces slightly, like the word tastes sour. And suddenly, Josh realizes that his whole life, Tyler had been taught that different means bad, _wrong_. He’s quick to reassure him, though.

“Yeah, _good_ different. I could listen to you talk all day. Not like anyone else I know.” Tyler takes a moment to reflect on this, really think about what Josh is saying. This is the first time anyone’s spoken to him or about him in a positive manner.

“Do _you_ enjoy talking to _me_?” This time, Josh asks.

“Yeah. You remind me of him.” Tyler doesn’t think before he says it, doesn’t have to.

“Of _Zack?”_

“Yeah.” Josh rubs his eyes then places his right arm down on the armrest on the side of his bench.

“Yeah, okay. Uh, how’s that?”

“You talk to me. Nobody else ever did.” And Josh wonders how many times one boy could make his heart shatter. _Anyone who talks to him reminds him of his brother? Damn._ “Besides, you’ve got kind of a sense about you.”

“A sense?” _Does Tyler pick up on things other people don’t? Is this some kind of M. Night Shyamalan shit?_ Josh is quick to shake his head, shake the stupid thoughts out. Tyler's normal. Tyler's fine.

“Yeah, you’re just . . . good.” _Good_ , Josh thinks, _best way anyone’s ever described me_. He doesn’t ask Tyler to elaborate though, doesn’t need to. He knows what Tyler means. Why ask him to explain when he knows he physically can’t?

Josh just nods instead, and he doesn’t say anything for a while. Tyler eventually stands up, taking the styrofoam box with him over to the garbage can. Fully expecting him to leave after this as he had done for the past two days, Josh is confused when Tyler comes back. He sits back down on the bench as if he never left.

Josh has been intently watching Tyler the whole time, memorizing his body language and his mannerisms in fondness. So he’s watching when Tyler sits back down on the bench, but as soon as he notices Tyler’s not looking back at him, he stares straight ahead instead. He only turns his head back again when he feels a hand snake up and grab his own where it still rests on the bench armrest. Josh glances down to their connected hands with a cocked eyebrow, and cannot deny how pretty they look like that. He gives a quick look up to Tyler, but Tyler isn’t looking back.

No, Tyler is sitting with his head tipped back, still facing forward, eyes closed with a small smile on his face. The same smile that grows on Josh’s face at the sight. Turning to face forward again, he feels Tyler’s fingers twitch in his grasp. But he doesn’t look back to Tyler, and he isn’t concerned. And he doesn’t dare move his hand, because he’s willing to keep it there all night long if that’s what Tyler wants. _Always wait for Tyler_.


	4. Bad Day

Josh has never liked the rain. He’s never liked the wetness, the coldness, the smell, or the feelings that come with it. Nothing about it at all.

So that’s why he’s sitting here in his car, staring out the window into the parking lot by the park entrance.

 _Am I really fucking doing this?_ Yes. He is. Because of Tyler. Josh doesn’t want to go into the rain, doesn’t want to be anywhere fucking near it, but knowing Tyler, Josh figured that he would definitely still be there in the park today, even in the torrential downpour. Josh is wearing a heavy jacket and thick boots, trying to protect himself from the brutality of the weather. He gets out of the car with a heavy, dramatic sigh and opens up an umbrella quickly. With one final huff, he sets down the path toward the place Tyler is sure to be. He keeps his head down as he walks, and this time there’s no distractions. _Because who the fuck else would be out here in this weather?_ No one. That’s who.

He stops when he arrives at the clearing, stands across the paved area from Tyler with a look of disbelief on his face. He’s not actually surprised, though. No, this is what he expected. He’s not actually surprised, or confused, but he still asks Tyler what he’s doing as he reaches the bench.

“What?” Tyler is genuine. He’s being serious.

“Why are you out here in the rain?” Josh asks as he watches the look of confusion leave Tyler’s face. He sighs as Tyler doesn’t answer, and shifts as close as he can to Tyler’s bench, trying to cover him from the rain as well. Tyler is not dressed for rainy weather. Tyler is dressed for the same, pleasant fall days they’ve been having lately, light hoodie, originally light gray in color but turned charcoal by the rain, and the same black jeans he wears everyday. Josh is concerned. He opens his mouth to speak right as Tyler picks up the styrofoam box, pulling out half of a pulled pork sandwich. He snaps his mouth shut. Something is off about Tyler, but Josh can’t figure out what it is.

Upon closer inspection, Josh notices that Tyler is twitching much more than normal, hands shaking so much they can barely hold the sandwich. His neck twitches as he is chewing, and Josh wonders whether he’s going to stop eating as he goes to scratch his head. But he doesn’t. _Of course_. He just holds the sandwich in his right hand, taking a bite from it as he scratches his head with his left, water flinging violently off of his hair. Josh stares at Tyler, judging, analyzing. He looks sad. He looks like he’s given up on something. His face is hanging, arms feeble, and his lips are turned down into a permanent frown.

Immediately, Josh’s worry multiplies. This is the first time he’s seen Tyler showing _real_ emotion, and the fact that it's a sad one can’t be good. Having those thoughts all trapped in a mind like Tyler’s is sure to be dangerous.

By the time Josh gathers the courage to speak, Tyler is finished with his half of the sandwich.

“Are you okay?” Tyler looks startled for a moment, obviously not expecting to hear Josh speak. But his face is quick to return to its state of sadness as he slowly shakes his head. “Bad day?” He tries again.

“Bad day.”

Josh bites his lip in thought. _Am I really fucking doing this_?

“It’s raining. Do you want to come to my house?” He’s really fucking doing this.

Tyler is slow in responding, so slow that Josh thinks he’s never going to say anything. Tyler is also slow in nodding his head shyly after a prolonged silence. Josh smiles brightly. It seems out of place for such a dreary setting, but he smiles nonetheless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Josh stands up with the umbrella, Tyler copying. On their way out of the clearing, Josh wait for Tyler to throw out his styrofoam box. _Always wait for Tyler_. Tyler shoves his hands deep into the pocket of his hoodie and walks with his eyes low, blinking slowly and infrequently. Josh holds the umbrella above them with his right hand, left in his own pocket. He’s trying to avoid staring at Tyler, so he stares ahead of himself, anticipating their arrival at the warm safety of his car. They don’t speak as they walk.

Upon reaching Josh’s car, Tyler is hesitant to get in. Josh has the doors unlocked, umbrella already closed as he watches Tyler stare at the car door from over the roof of the car. His brows furrow as he stands there in the rain, a cold and shaking hand on his door handle, practically begging to get into the warmth of the car. But as usual, he waits for Tyler. _Always wait for Tyler._

 _Maybe he doesn’t know the door’s open._ To test his theory, Josh opens his own door, finally getting into the driver’s seat. Almost immediately, Tyler gets in too, settling into the seat quietly. Josh wonders whether or not he knew the door was unlocked. And Tyler just scratches at his head forcefully.

“I don’t live too far,” Josh says as he starts the engine. Not that he’s expecting a response from Tyler. He doesn’t get one.

Out of habit, Josh drives one handed. Left hand high on the steering wheel, right arm propped up on the divider between the front two seats. He doesn’t react outwardly when he feels Tyler grab his hand and squeeze tightly, save for a small smile he tries to keep to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Tyler says. Josh looks over to him briefly with the kindest eyes.

“Don’t be.”

“It’s a bad day.”

“I get it.” Josh says it earnestly, comfortingly. But he doesn’t really get it. 

* * *

 Back at Josh’s house, it’s too hot inside. After warming up enough, Josh is quick to remove his heavy jacket and boots. Tyler copies him by taking off his sneakers carefully at the door, but does not remove his hoodie.

“You can hang your hoodie up there,” Josh offers, gesturing to the hook on the wall by the front door. Tyler just stares. He stares at Josh in silence, and Josh is turned away so he doesn’t notice. But when he makes notice of Tyler’s silence, he looks over to see Tyler staring at him.

“You okay dude?” He’s still staring. He’s staring so intently, so void of emotion that Josh thinks holes are going to burn through his face. “Tyler? Tyler what are you-” He stops speaking abruptly when Tyler begins to take off his hoodie with haste. It looks like he’s fighting with his clothes as he struggles to get it off of him as fast as possible, limbs flying about and struggling to free himself from the grasp of the sweatshirt.

Once he finally gets the hoodie off, Josh gives Tyler an inquisitive look as he stands now in his t-shirt. _The fuck was that?_ But suddenly, Josh’s whole demeanor changes, to one of _oh, oh shit._

As his eyes scan down Tyler’s torso they stop abruptly on his arms, hanging down by his sides, hands twitching anxiously. His eyes go wide at the sight of the scars. So, _so_ many scars that look painful and infected. They’re not the thin, white, already healed scars. No, Josh has seen those. These scars are an entirely different beast. A beast that manifests itself in large, puffy welts and half-healed stitches that appear to be pulled out by hand. A beast that rears its ugly head all over the insides and outsides of Tyler’s arms, upper and lower. The scars aren’t fresh, but they’re so prominent, and so evident of years and years of lost battles. Josh can't even begin to think about what Tyler would have had to use to create them. Either way, his arms are fucking _mutilated_.

Josh’s eyes drag back up to Tyler’s face, completely stoic save for the stray tears that betray him and make their way down his face. They stare at each other in tense silence, chests rising and falling rapidly, both waiting for the other to _just fucking say something, god dammit!_ Josh makes an attempt to speak, but the words die on his tongue, sizzle out after he gets the single word out of his mouth.

“Tyler . . .” And hes rushing forward, pulling Tyler in firmly and pressing their chests together in a tight hug. His right hand goes to the back of Tyler’s head, fingers carding through the untamed hairs there, left hand rubbing gentle circles on his back. Tyler’s arms wrap tightly around Josh’s back, pressing his face into his neck.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s a bad day, I’m so sorry . . .” Tyler tries to speak through the heavy sobs that wrack his chest, whole body shaking in Josh’s grasp. Josh cries, too, but not as hard as Tyler. Josh has never seen Tyler so exposed, so emotional. He’s crushed, makes any effort he can to console Tyler.

“No, please. Please don’t apologize. It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. I’m not mad.” But Tyler’s still bawling, shaking his head and rubbing his face into the fabric of Josh’s shirt. “It’s okay,” Josh says one more time.

They stay in their embrace for what feels like hours before Tyler has calmed down. He pulls away to look Josh in the face, tear tracks staining his skin, eyelashes wet and dark. And he looks tired. But it’s not the tired Josh is used to seeing on Tyler’s face, it’s the physical tired. The tired that says he really needs to fucking go to sleep.

Josh takes Tyler by the hand, leads him into his bedroom and out of his still-wet clothes. Tyler hesitantly accepts Josh’s offer of a hoodie and sweatpants, steps into them and sits down on the bed. Josh enters then, two glasses of water in his hands. He reaches one out to Tyler who readily accepts it with quiet thanks.

“Josh?” Josh hums questioningly, shifting closer to Tyler and rubbing his back yet again. “Can you kiss me?” Josh’s hand halts its movements momentarily, pulling away from Tyler entirely. Tyler looks to him with fear in his eyes, thinking Josh is going to tell him no, tell him he doesn’t like him, kick him out of his house. But Josh is not doing any of these things. He’s leaning in, meeting Tyler’s lips with his own in the most gentle, sweet kiss either of the two had ever experienced. It’s soft, it’s assuring, and it’s a _promise_. It’s over before it even starts, and Josh reaches out to hold Tyler’s hand once again, fingers rubbing soothingly over the backs of his hands. He then looks up to meet Tyler’s eyes, Tyler’s loving eyes that look down to their hands when he makes eye contact with Josh. Josh swears he sees a blush and a small smile on Tyler’s face, but doesn’t point it out.

“We should go to sleep,” Josh murmurs, feeling tiredness seep into his bones.

“Stay with me?” Josh almost laughs. _Why wouldn’t I?_

“Of course,” he settles on as he gives Tyler one last smile. He draws back the comforter, crawling underneath with Tyler doing the same. Josh lays on his side, an arm wrapped loosely around Tyler’s waist. Their legs are intertwined, feet rubbing up and down legs slowly. Tyler is laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling.

“Happy birthday, Zack,” he whispers. Josh is already fast asleep.


	5. Unpredictable

Tyler is unpredictable, Josh decides. The only thing constant about him is the park and the sandwich. Normally, a hoodie and black jeans would be on that list, but today has proven to be an extra-unpredictable day for Tyler. He’s changed his usual attire, swapping black jeans for blue jeans. It’s hot outside, stickiness prominent in the air from the rain yesterday to add to the heat of the day. Presumably, this is why Tyler’s not wearing a hoodie as he sits on the bench. No, he’s wearing short sleeves.

Josh masks his surprise, masks his pride and tells himself that the only reason Tyler’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt is because of the heat. _That’s it._ He hasn’t forgotten the kiss, and he hopes to God that Tyler hasn’t either. Knowing Tyler, he wouldn’t.

Adding to his surprise, Josh is shocked to notice Tyler’s change in demeanor. Yesterday was a bad day, Tyler had said. He had been moping, sobbing, and apologizing the whole time. _Yesterday was a bad day_. But today, Josh notes, Tyler is much more perky. He’s certainly not over-the-top excited, Tyler’s just not that type of guy. But Josh can sense his calmness as he approaches the bench. He can sense it in the brightness of his eyes, the lack of twitching Tyler seems to be doing.

“Hey,” Josh greets. He’s testing the waters, seeing where Tyler will take the conversation today. He’s careful to keep his eyes on Tyler’s own, careful to avoid looking down at his arms. But Josh is so curious. _Wish I wasn’t_. He sneaks a few glances anyways.

“Hi, Josh,” Tyler says, breathy and light. Fondness glows in his eyes, lips drawn up into a smile. With _teeth_ , this time. _Beautiful._

Josh doesn’t know how to bring it up. Josh doesn’t know if he should bring it up. And what is _it?_ Is it the scars? The kiss? The hand-holding? The cuddling? He certainly does not want to talk about Zack anymore, doesn’t want to talk about the things that make Tyler twitch and scratch and tick. He doesn’t know what to say, but Tyler is _glowing_ today, and he has to say something, if the look of anticipation on Tyler’s face is of any indication.

“You look good today,” he settles on. _Not bad. It’s the truth. Not bad._ He watches with a quickly growing smile as a blush creeps up Tyler’s face.

“Thank you. _Thank you_.” And Josh knows why he said it twice. He’s thanking him for more than the compliment. He’s thanking him for the confidence. He’s thanking him for the conversation, the listening, the talking, the understanding. He’s thanking him for his presence. Hell, he’s thanking him for everything.

Josh doesn’t want to be too bold right now. He’s always bold, always unapologetic. He doesn’t want to ruin the sereneness of the atmosphere, deciding to just nod and remain silent. He lifts his right arm up, still not on the same bench as Tyler, and holds it out to him, palm facing up. Tyler does not hesitate to grab it in his own, settling their hands down together on the armrest.

It’s different this time, Josh realizes. Because the other times were surely welcome, but they were never intentional on Josh’s part. But this time, Josh initiates.

He’s so fucking cheesy. He lifts up their joined hands, bringing them to his lips as he settles a soft kiss on the back of Tyler’s hand. _So fucking cheesy,_ he wants to roll his eyes at himself. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.

They remain in a comfortable silence, both with dumb smiles on their faces, staring out in front of them. Josh had noticed that they do this a lot. He had briefly pondered whether they should be talking more, should be doing something else more. But this was just something they _did,_ something they _do_ , and there are no rules to it. Why should they talk more? Why isn’t it enough? And enough for what? _No rules,_ Josh had decided. _No rules with Tyler_. So they stare ahead quietly.

Josh doesn’t shift his gaze from the trees in front of him to Tyler until he feels the other, smaller hand pull away from his own. Curiously, he looks over to see Tyler opening up the container with nimble fingers, taking out the pulled pork sandwich. This is predictable. Biting his lip, Josh gets an idea.

“Hey, wait,” Josh says quickly, just before Tyler is about to take a bite. Tyler cocks an eyebrow, mouth slightly open and sandwich still raised to his mouth. His arms are up now, and Josh swallows hard, finding it much more difficult to avoid looking at them now that they were brandished at eye-level. He shakes his head, refocusing his train of thought on what he had planned to say. “You should eat something else today.” Tyler’s mouth shuts, lips pressing into a tight line as he lowers the sandwich down, back into the box. He furrows his brows in thought. Josh continues in his attempts to persuade Tyler. “I mean, I know it’s for Zack and everything, and believe me, it’s really sweet of you, but I think you should eat something else for a change. There’s other ways to commemorate him.”

“Like what?” Tyler asks quickly, but not rudely. He ignores the part about how he should eat something else, doesn’t give a fuck about that. But the part about Zack, about _commemorating_ him, he perks up at. It was the same word Josh had used the other day, the same word Tyler had denied that he was doing. It’s Josh’s turn, now, to close his mouth in silence for a moment. This is what he wanted to avoid today. He wanted to avoid the topic of Zack. Tyler’s still glowing, though. _Let’s make this short_.

“I don’t know, exactly. But we can decide on that later, yeah? There’s a cafe around the corner from here. We should go there.” Tyler seems to weigh his options, but ultimately seems to trust Josh.

“Yeah,” he says, scratching his head with renewed vigor, “yeah,” he says it again, scratching his head energetically one more time. Josh smiles, his whole _face_ lighting up this time as he stands up, holds his arm out to Tyler once again. Tyler does not hesitate and is quick to intertwine their hands tightly. They remain standing still for a moment as Josh looks down at their hands. He somehow thinks they look even prettier than normal with Tyler’s arms out in the open like this. He’s shocked out of his reverie, however, when Tyler detaches their hands _yet again_.

 _Oh shit, I fucked up. He saw me looking. He’s upset. Today was supposed to be good, today was good, shit._ But when he looks up, his eyes close immediately as Tyler grabs his face gently and presses their lips together. This kiss is not as simple as their last. Josh’s hands go to grab Tyler’s waist lightly, but they don’t stay there after Tyler breaks the kiss.

“Sorry,” he blushes.

“Don’t be. Let’s go.” Josh grabs Tyler’s hand once again, and this time, no one lets go. They hold hands the whole way there, leaving nothing but a white styrofoam box with a whole pulled pork sandwich still sitting on the bench in their wake.

* * *

 Arriving at the cafe, Josh can’t keep his eyes off of Tyler. He watches with delighted interest as Tyler stops, breathing in the atmosphere of the place. He waits for him to finish. _Always wait for Tyler_. Eventually noticing that they’re still standing right in the entrance of the place, Tyler smiles at Josh sheepishly before heading over to a booth in the corner of the cafe, a slight skip in his step. _Good day_.

Tyler sits in the booth, Josh sliding in across from him quietly, taking a moment to bask in the ambiance himself. He can’t help himself.

“Have I told you you look good today?” He asks with a teasing smile on his face. Tyler gives him a playful glare.

“ _Josh.”_

“Like, _really_ good.” Josh almost baffles himself. Just a few days ago, he had been so afraid to speak to Tyler for fear that every word he said would seep into his bones and shatter them. So nervous that he would overstep boundaries in speaking to him. And now? Now he’s _teasing_ Tyler. He’s _joking around_ with Tyler. Tyler, who opens his mouth to speak again, presumably to shoo off the compliment yet again, but is cut off by the arrival of a waitress. She introduces herself as Olivia anxiously, unsure of herself as she stammers through her script of taking orders for their drinks. _Fuckin’ rookie,_ Josh thinks.

“Fuckin’ rookie,” Josh says after the girl has gone away. Tyler doesn’t seem to give much of a reaction, but Josh really wasn’t expecting one. His arms are down at his sides. His demeanor has changed, yet again. He seems to have remembered that his arms are exposed, susceptible to anyone’s criticism.

“Do you want my hoodie?” Josh offers, sensing his discomfort. Tyler’s wide eyes snap over to meet Josh’s.

“No, I’m fine. I’m not cold.” Josh bites his lip. _Really?_ Josh thinks sardonically. He’s not actually mad, though. He could never get mad at Tyler. But Josh is so concerned, and he’s about to speak up again, about to say “ _no Tyler you know that’s not what I meant okay I really care about you I want you to feel okay”_ and all of those other things that might potentially fall on deaf ears and Tyler might deny it and turn this into a bad day because he’s just so fucking unpredictable but he doesn’t. Josh doesn’t say it. Because Olivia is back with their drinks, nearly spilling them on her way over. Fuckin’ rookie.

Before she can open her mouth to take their food orders, another woman barges over.

“Get table six, Olivia.” And Olivia rushes off, seemingly more suitable for taking drink orders rather than handling actual food. The woman comes over with a genuine smile, large and demanding the attention of both Tyler and Josh. The next few moments for Josh are like he’s watching a movie play out in front of him.

At first, the woman is smiling, and _how the fuck is she smiling if she just snapped at that girl?_ He looks across the table to see Tyler smiling right back up at her, obviously back in a good mood with her arrival. _Guess he’s really hungry_. He looks back to the woman as well, but his brows furrow with worry when he sees her eyes widen slightly in surprise, momentarily. She’s still looking at Tyler. And suddenly Josh wants to get protective, because he knows she’s not surprised to see Tyler, she’s surprised to see Tyler’s arms. Another glance back at the boy sees his lip bitten, eyes cast downward. But as quick as it happens, it’s over because both him and the waitress are smiling reassuringly again. Unpredictable.

Feeling completely left out of their silent conversation, Josh is ready to speak up. _What the fuck is going on? Stop looking at his arms!_

But he doesn’t, because the waitress beats him to it.

“Hi, Tyler. Pulled pork to go?” And suddenly Josh’s eyebrows furrow so low they may as well be on his nose. Tyler just looks over to Josh, beams brightly with the most genuine giggle he’s ever heard from the boy, as if his sort-of-boyfriend being confused by his mysterious interaction with a waitress in a random cafe is the most hilarious thing that’s ever happened to him. But Josh can’t fight off the shy, slightly embarrassed smile that sets on his features, his eyebrows returning back to their normal place as realization sinks in.

“No thanks,” Tyler says, still staring intently at Josh but speaking to the waitress. He scratches his head. “I think I’ll have some soup.” 


End file.
